


Underneath it All

by Tegaladwen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 21:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15446682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tegaladwen/pseuds/Tegaladwen
Summary: Sam is splitting apart at the seams, and after Dean leaves, it feels like no one is there to help him. Can Cas save him from himself? Set after 9x10, "Road Trip."





	1. Chapter 1

Sam was done. He was just done. He was tired of being the good little soldier, quiet and brave. He missed his brother, who had abandoned him again.

Dean had said it was because he was poison, because everyone who got near him die. 

"Or got possessed by a fucking angel," Sam whispered, leaning over the bathroom sink.

He knew that wasn't the real reason Dean left, even if Dean said it was. Dean was tired. Tired of lugging around his useless little brother who kept fucking everything up. First he was a  psychic demon kid, then he got addicted to drinking the blood of the spawn of Hell, then he was possessed by Satan himself, then he was soulless, and then Sam went insane, like clinically inane. Then, he had gotten his insides ripped apart in an incomplete attempt to close the gates of Hell. Sam had ben ready to die then, but Dean dragged him back to life by having some psycho angel possess him. And because of that, he had Kevin's blood on his hands.

Sam let out a shaky sigh. He still wanted to die. He had wanted to then, and he wanted to now.

Sam dug around in his bag with trembling hands, gripping a small package between his fingers. Unzipping it, he pulled out a silver razor blade.

_It's funny how I protect my fingers my keeping the blades in this goddamn package when I'm just planning on slicing up my arms anyway._

Sam could already feel his pull towards the blade. He missed the feeling of his skin being sliced apart, of the red blood rushing over his arms. He even missed losing consciousness when he cut too deep, a sweet release rom the hell he was living.

Rocking back and forth on his heels, he pushed his hands against the cold porcelain of the sink. He was so disgusting. He was so wrong for wanting this, for wanting the pain. He was still the addict.

Letting out a fast breath of air, Sam pushed himself off the sink, rolling up his sleeves to reveal a plethora of self-inflicted scars, spanning from wrist to shouler, although the fabric still covered his biceps.

He traced a thin, light mark on his left arm with his finger, smaller than the rest. It had been his first. He had made it with a kitchen knife when he was thirteen, and he had been doing it ever since.

Placing the blade on his arm in between scars, Sam slowed his breathing.

If Dean ever came back and found out, he was going to kill him. Or leave him again. Which, in a way, was killing him.

"Fuck," Sam whispered, and dragged the blade across his skin. The blood welled up immediately, as if it had been waiting to escape. 

Right above the new cut, Sam pressed the blade down again, harder this time. Slowly, he made a deep slice. The red warmth sprang faster, pooling in the cut and spilling over. The stream of blood poured into the sink, coloring the white bowl a deep maroon.

Strangely mesmerized, he watched, his arm throbbing.

Cas was going to kill him. That defective angel had saved him over the last few years almost as much as Dean had. He had dragged Sam back from the edge of death more than he ever should have.

Why did Castiel care about him anyway? He had repeatedly called him an abomination or other things like it. Even when they first met, Cas had immediately dubbed him "the boy with the demon blood."

He was only sticking around to heal him now because Dean wanted him to. His living was just a formality for both of them. Saving him was a habit, nothing more.

Letting out a loud sound of frustration, Sam made another cut, right above the last. Small drops of blood met the still steady stream next to it.

He was starting to get lightheaded. That second cut was going to need stitches. He had gone too far.

But a part of him couldn't help but hope for the blackness. 

No. He had to stay awake. Castiel was here, and if he discovered--

"Sam?" Cas's rough, deep voice sounded through the door. "Are you alright? I heard you-- You sounded angry." 

Sam let out a sharp breath of air, running water down the sink, washing the blood away. "Uh- uh, yeah, Cas, I'm fine. Just, uh-" He swept his hair out of his face and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He blinked quickly, shaking his head to try and clear it.

Cas opened the door, and Sam pushed his left arm into his back, attempting to stop the bleeding. He moved the razor blade to his left hand. The angel's eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Sam's eyes skirted the counter quickly. Clenching the blade in his left hand, he noticed the small pouch that held his others.

He cleared his throat, bringing his arm up and running his hand through his hair. "I was just, uh--"

"Sam, your arm," the angel grabbed his hand, then forced his arm straight. Cas traced his fingers over the pinkish-white scars on Sam's right forearm. "What are all these from?"

Sam could feel Cas scrutinizing him, eyes traveling up the length of his arm, noticing how the scars diappeared under his rolled-up sleeve.

Sam was so lightheaded. He felt Cas trying to roll up his sleeve farther. He pulled back quickly. "Uh, they're from, uh-" he felt the blood from his left arm drip to the floor. He had lost so much blood it had soaked through his shirt. "-all the rituals Dean and I had to do." 

Sam swayed dangerously. Castiel put a hand on his chest, holding him up. The youngest Winchester watched Cas's eyes travel down his body, looking for a source of his sickness. Finally his eyes drifted to the floor, alighting on the steady drip of blood staining the white marble.

"Sam, show me your other arm." 

Sam was pressing heavily against Cas's hand now, but he still managed to begin, "Why? I mean-" Finally, he fell completely, passing out against the angel. 

"Sam!" Castiel called as Sam fell against him. He lowered the man carefully to thee ground, wary of his head. Immediately, his eyes flew to the boy's left arm. It was gushing blood from three different areas, and based on the sheer amount, he had probably lost a lot of his life force.

Castiel ran his hand over Sam's wounds, healing them in a white glow. "Sam! Wake up!" He grabbed his chin, shaking his head. Sam was out cold.

Cas began to panic. If Sam didn't wake up, Cas would have to tell Dean, and Dean would kill him. Hell, if Sam died, Cas would kill himself.

He never showed it, but he cared a lot about the younger Winchester. Because of Sam's past mistakes, angels made a point of avoiding him. But ever since Cas met him, he had been fascinated by him. No matter what he had done, Sam remained completely devout. He was strong, and had such a capacity to believe in others, even though he had been through so much. Castiel relied on him. Sam was his rock. He had seen Dean cry, he had seen Dean break. But he had never seen Sam crumble like that (except when he went insane, of course, but that was an exception). Castiel relied on that man, the boy with the demon blood, to keep him strong. 

Castiel sat back, angel ears peeled for a sign of life. And there it was. The steady, but faint in-and-out of Sam's breath. Cas exhaled with Sam, eyes darting to his arms again. They were covered in straight, clean scars. Cas was hard-pressed to find a square half-inch of clear skin.

Dean's arms certainly didn't look like that. So why did Sam's?

Cas's eyes focused on a silver glint of metal in Sam's left hand. He pulled it out of the man's grasp. It was a blade, small and sharp, fitting perfectly to the common shaving razor. It was bloody.

Squinting in confusion, Castiel scanned Sam's body. When he opened the man's right hand, he noticed a small, circular indent where his right thumb must have been holding the object.

Castiel's eyes went wide in realization. "You did this to yourself," he said aloud, shocked. "You've done all this to yourself. Why would you do that?"

Cas supposed he already knew the answer. His pain was more than his desire to live. Castiel understood this. When he was human, he had felt regret. He had felt fear, and loss, and unbearable guilt over the things he had done in the past. And when that had first happened, he had wanted to kill himself. He had wanted to jump off a cliff and end it all. For those few weeks, he had felt like he was being thrown around and trampled over violently. He had felt like no one cared about him or even cared that he was alive. He had felt alone.

His pain was nothing compared to that of the man in front of him. If he was in Sam Winchester's shoes, he might have taken a razor to his arms, too.

* * *

 Sam drifted back into consciousness a few minutes later to find Castiel staring at him, pain in his eyes.

"Cas, what-" Sam started. _What happened?_ Then, he remembered. His right hand flew to his arm. It was bloody, very bloody, but there were no cuts. Did Cas heal him? Wait-- where was his-- he had had it in his hand.

Sam looked up to see Castiel twirling the blade between his fingers.

 _Shit._ Sam broke into a nervous smile. "Cas, this isn't what it looks like, I-"

"Sam," Cas cut him off. He tilted his head. "You did this to yourself." He looked confused. Sad, almost. 

Sam sat up, immediately feeling dizzy and sick. He wanted to pass out, or throw up. 

His body, apparently, decided on the latter. He crawled to the toilet and expelled the contents of his stomach. Apparently, Cas couldn't heal blood loss. He would just have to wait it out like every other time.

Castiel handed him a glass of cold water.

"Thanks," Sam whispered. He was shocked to feel tears welling up in his eyes. He hated letting Cas see him this low. He wanted to seem strong, for him, for Dean, for everyone. But Sam was broken. He was broken beyond the point of repair.

He clenched the glass with shaking hands, drinking a little bit, then spitting it out into the porcelain bowl. He flushed, then leaned back against the wall, panting heavily. 

"Sam-" Cas started. Sam flinched. Here it was. The hatred, the disgust, the abandonment. The truth. He willed himself not to cry, keeping his eyes shut. He bit his lip.

"Why?" Castiel said.

Sam's eyes flew open. "What?" He clenched his fist, waiting for the ball to drop, his green eyes meeting Cas's blue ones.

"Why didn't you tell anyone what you were doing-- what you were feeling? We could have helped you."

A dark laugh sprung from Sam's throat. "Because nobody was listening, Cas!" It was tough to hold back the tears now. "I don't know if you've noticed, but no one pays attention to an addict, or a college dropout, no one pays attention to a complete screw-up like me!" His voice rose until he was yelling, breaking on the last word. Lip trembling, he pulled his mouth into a mirthless smile. "No one fucking cares."

Finally, Sam Winchester shattered, breaking down completely.He sobbed into his hands, shoulders shaking violently, knees pulled up to his chest. He wanted to be strong, he wanted to show everyone, he wanted to yell, "Fuck you!" to the world, but he was done. He couldn't handle it anymore. He wanted to scream. A deep, real, raw scream that would reverberate through his very soul, catching everything negative and expelling it into the air, letting everything go.

So he did. Sam screamed, expressing everything inside him, laying his heart out for everyone to see.

Silently, Cas scooted over to be next to him, putting his hand on the crying man's back.

Instinctively, Sam leaned into him, and Cas slid his arm around his shoulders.

The angel held him like that until Sam stopped crying, for five minutes at least, but it felt like longer.

Finally, Sam sniffed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Sam Winchester," Castiel began, grabbing the sides of Sam's face. "You listen to me. You are not an abomination. You are not a disgrace, or worthless, or whatever else you think you are. You stopped the apocalypse. You save lives. You are a hero, Sam. And don't you dare think you can hurt yourself like this and have no one notice. I care about you, Sam, and I couldn't bear losing you!"

Sam just looked at him. Did he really mean it?

Cas's eyes skirted over Sam's face, thumb catching a stray tear. His eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head. Then, he leaned in.

Sam didn't know whether it was how overwhelmed he was, or the damage this ordeal had done on his emotions, or how the blood loss must have been affecting his brain, but when Cas's lips touched his, he kissed back.

Sam's lips parted, mouth conforming to the movement of Castiel's, hand gripping his short hair and coming to rest at his hairline in the back.

Castiel slid his hands from Sam's face to his chest, sliding around his sides and to his lower back.

As Sam lightly flicked his tongue against Cas's teeth, he realized. He was kissing Castiel. He was full-on making out with an angel of the Lord.

He started to feel lightheaded again, but for an entirely different reason this time. He had forgotten to breathe.

Sam Winchester was kissing a celestial being, and not only that, but his friend of five years, and he was enjoying it.

_Am I gay?_

Sam pulled away. "Uh, Castiel, I-" he said, startled. His hands fell away from the angel. He looked down, ashamed, but he didn't know why.

Cas stood up rapidly. "Sam, I d- um." Hesitating as if to say something else, his hand moved to touch the man's shoulder.

Thinking better of it, he turned on his heel, walking out of the room.

Right before he closed the door, Sam called after him, "Cas!"

"Yes, Sam?" the angel replied.

 _I'm sorry._ "Please. Don't tell Dean."

Castiel tilted his head, eyes sad and almost pitying. "I can't promise that, Sam." He exited, closing the door behind him.

Sam hit the floor with his fist. "Fuck," he whispered. Slowly, he stood up, his breath shaky. He pressed his hands against the cold wall, trying to fend off the dizziness. He pushed off, hands landing roughly on the counter, mimicking his earlier position. He jumped up on the counter, sitting with his back against the mirror before his lightheadedness could overcome him again.

He surveyed the scene before him. Blood on the floor from where it dripped of his shirt, blood smeared on the marble from where he passed out, a small patch where his back had been, stretching to the toilet where he had spilled his guts, and ending on the bottom of the wall. Where Cas had kissed him.

And Sam had kissed him back.

He wasn't gay, he had loved Jess and Amelia easily enough.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he had only responded because he was so fucked up in the brain due to blood loss; it did look like a battle went down in here.

Sam dismissed the thought. He was in more or less perfect control of his thoughts and his emotions when it had happened. He sighed, wishing it was that simple.

Sam knew there were other sexualities out there, but he'd never assigned himself to one, or really even considered that he wasn't straight. There was bi, but Sam wasn't sure that fit him. There was asexual, but that one wasn't right either-- he liked sex enough.

He clenched his teeth, frustrated. Maybe he didn't fit a label at all. He had been the freak his entire life. Why should this be any different?

And why would Cas even kiss him in the first place? Did angels even have romantic connections? Sam suspected so, but not with humans... right? 

Sam laughed a little, shaking his head. Wrong, apparently.

This was just too complicated. He looked at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and tried not to think.

* * *

 Castiel stared at Sam's phone. He had been debating picking it up and dialing Dean for the past few minutes.

He knew it would be right, of course, to call the older brother, since something was wrong with Sam. But in this case? Sam had been doing it to himself, he had been causing himself pain.

And he had practically begged him not to tell Dean.

Sighing, he grabbed the phone. Sam was hurting himself. He needed help. And Cas didn't know anyone better for the job than Dean.

He dialed the number. He needed to get one of these devices. They were very helpful.

The phone rang until it went to voicemail, Dean's voice sarcastically telling him to leave a message after the tone.

"Dean," Cas began, unsure of what to say. What does one tell a man when his brother is hurting himself? "Um, it's Cas. I was just... calling to let you know that-" Cas sighed. "Dean, it's Sam. Um, he's... Just call me back. It's important." He hung up the phone, tossing it onto the table, then he waited for the call back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed chapter 1!  
> (Note: Chapters 1 through 4 of this work are unrevised reposts of my old story, originally put on fanfiction.net under the same name. These chapters were written between 2014 and 2016.)


	2. Chapter 2

Dean threw his duffle bag down on one bed, throwing himself onto the other. He didn't know why he had gotten two beds. Habit, he supposed.

He sighed. It was strange being alone again. He wanted to call Sam.

No, he couldn't do that. Dean was poison. Everyone who got near him fucking died. Especially Sam. Dean had gotten him possessed by some sick, twisted angel, and he was almost torn apart.

"God damn it," he whispered, pushing the heels of his hands over his closed eyes, shutting himself in complete darkness.

Suddenly, his phone rang. A job, maybe? No, he would just let it ring. But, what if it was Sam?

"Shit," he whispered, reaching for it. He looked at the display. It was him. It was his brother.  Dean held his thumb over the answer button, but hesitated to press it.

No, he couldn't. He wasn't going back. He wasn't going to put his kid brother in danger. Never again.  Sighing, he tossed the phone back down.

About a minute later, a small beep sounded. Sam had left a message. Puffing his cheeks out, he let out a deep breath. Once more, he picked up the phone, pressed his password (0502, Sam's birthday) in, and held the device up to his ear.

"Dean," Cas's voice sounded. _What the hell?_ "Um, it's Cas."  _Yeah, no shit._ The angel continued, "I was just... calling to let you know that-" There was a pause.

Dean was starting to get a strange feeling. Something was wrong. Why was Cas on Sam's phone? What was going on? What happened to his brother?

"Dean, it's Sam. Um, he's... Just call me back. It's important." The dial tone sounded.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He's... what? What was Sam doing? What was wrong with him?

Jaw clenched, he redialed the number.

"Dean," a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"Cas, what the hell?"

"Uh-"

"What's going on with Sam?"

"Dean, I..." the angel trailed off.

"Castiel, you feathery son of a bitch, what the hell is wrong with my little brother?"

"Dean, calm down. He's not-- look, Sam's, um, damaged."

"Damaged? What's that supposed to mean? Did Gadreel-" Dean could feel his heart trying to escape from his chest. Maybe he'd made a mistake. How could he leave? How could he do that to his little brother?

"No, none of this was his doing."

"Then who hurt him? What's going on?"

Cas sighed, unsure of what to say. "Dean, Sam is hurting himself."

There was a long pause at the other end of the line. "What?" Dean replied.

Castiel hesitated. Dean wasn't going to take this well. "Sam is... injuring himself. With a blade."

Cas heard a sharp intake of breath through the phone. "What?" he said, voice breaking.

Castiel twirled Sam's razor blade between his fingers. "Where are you?" he finally asked. "I'll bring him to you."

"Uh, North Street Motel, Old Fort, Ohio. Room 106."

Castiel hung up the phone, putting it in his pocket. He disappeared and reappeared in the bathroom, eyes alighting upon Sam, who was sitting on the counter.

The sight that greeted him terrified the angel. Sam turned his head toward Cas slowly and deliberately. His gaze was dull, numb, broken. Cas noted worriedly how the man was leaning heavily on the mirror, perspiration on his forehead, arms laying slack by his sides. His left forearm was still covered in drying blood, as was the floor, and part of the wall.

He tilted his head, moving his sharp gaze back to Sam. He was clearly exhausted, still feeling the effects of both the blood loss and the physical exertion it took to express the emotion he was feeling.

"Cas," he whispered, voice rough from screaming and crying. "I'm sorry."

The angel didn't answer, simply walking towards him. He placed a hand on his arm, and instantaneously travelled through space.

* * *

Sam crashed to the ground, startled by the disappearance of the counter and the mirror behind him.

"Cas, what-" Sam began, surveying his new surroundings. It was a shitty motel, a scene he knew well. Finally, his eyes landed on Dean, who was hopping to his feet. "Dean?" he said, pushing himself off the ground.

Immediately, a wave of dizziness and nausea overcame him, blackness edging sharply into his vision.

As he started to fall, he felt a pair of strong hands on him.

"Whoa there, little brother. Easy, Sam," Dean coaxed his sibling to the bed.

"Dean, what- Castiel. I told you not to-" Sam began, voice slurring with exhaustion.

Castiel's head tilted. "I know, Sam, but you need help."

Sam tried to sit up, but Dean's arms held him down. "You son of a bitch, how could you do that?" Sam yelled, the struggling making him more lightheaded.

"Sam-"

"I'll tell him about what we did. I'll tell him," Sam's mind flew back to the kiss immediately.

Apparently, so did Castiel's. "I am indifferent as to whether or not you tell him or not."

"Tell me what?" Dean yelled.

"It's none of your damn business!" Sam shouted back. "And neither is this! Get off me!" Sam pushed his brother away from him. Dean stumbled back, but grabbed Sam's left arm, still covered in drying blood.

"Sam!" Dean yelled in shock, but then calmer, he said, "Sammy, what the hell?" He inspected Sam's arm. His little brother's smooth skin was covered in slightly raised scars, all the way up his forearm.

Dean lifted his brother's sleeve a little more. His biceps were covered in them, too. "God, Sam," he whispered.

Sam looked away, flashing his teeth in what was meant to be a smile. "Dean..."

"Take off your shirt."

"What? No!"

"Take it off, Sam," Dean ordered.

Sam glanced over at Cas, who was looking at him, emotionless. Or nearly emotionless. He wasn't going to jump in and help.

Sam sighed, biting his lip. He didn't want Dean to see the extent of what he had been hiding for over fifteen years. Sam knew that his secret would be out. That Dean would find it gross and idiotic. He would finally have a good enough reason to get out, to leave his worthless little brother behind for good.

Sam looked back to Dean. He could already see the disgust on his brother's face, etched in the set of his mouth and the tears of disappointment in his bright green eyes.

The younger Winchester exhaled loudly. He was cornered. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed to make his dizziness less noticeable, and took off his plaid overshirt, leaving on the dark T-shirt underneath.

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. He brought his hand to his face, trying to hide the shock and fear that he knew was evident in his expression.

Sam, his baby brother, was covered in the pinkish-white lines, spanning from his forearms to the middle of his biceps, and continuing more under his black T-shirt.

"The other one too, Sam," Dean said. He cleared his throat, holding back tears.

Sam glanced down, defeated. He looked so small, sitting on the bed. How long had he been  _ doing  _ this to himself?

Sam took off his T-shirt, exposing his well-muscled abdomen, and even more scarring.

Dean's eyes skirted over his brother. The lines were less condensed here, but they were still everywhere. The most disturbing thing, though, was the scar on the right side of his chest. It was a word. It read, "Why."

The older brother's tears spilled over. "Fuck, Sammy."

Sam's posture fell even more. He was tired, depressed, beaten down. He waited for the inevitable yelling, the biting, sharp words that he knew were coming.

"How long has this been going on?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam looked up at him, tucking his long hair behind his ear. "About seventeen years," he said. "On and off, since I was thirteen." His voice faded to a near whisper. He resisted the urge to curl up into a ball.  _ You're not a child anymore, Sam. Quit acting like one.  _ John's familiar mantra repeated in the young man's head over and over again. He chanced a look up at his brother. Dean had tears in his eyes, and his hands were drumming on the sides of his legs to hide their still obvious trembling.  _ Shit. Is he angry? Hurt? He hates me. I've done it. I've finally sent him over the edge.  _ Sam looked at the ground again, a tear making its way down the bridge of his nose. He reached up with a limp hand to wipe it off.  _ Don't show weakness or the monsters will know they've beaten you.  _ Another one of his father's sayings, drilled into his mind from age eight. Sam just never thought the thing he feared would be his brother.

"Why, Sam?" Dean questioned.

Sam absently scratched the back of his neck, almost visibly shrinking under Dean's gaze.  _ Why doesn't he just get it over with? Why does he keep pretending like he gives a shit? _

Sam shrugged. Almost under his breath, he whispered, "I'm not worth anything to anyone."

Dean was close enought to catch the words, and they made his heart shatter. He immediately sat down next to his brother on the bed. Castiel moved forward at the soft admission as well, but Dean silently waved him off. He needed to talk this out with his brother.

"Sam, come on, man, you can't really think that!" Dean searched his brother's face for some sign, any sign, of love or hope, but he couldn't find any, and Sammy still wouldn't look at him.

Sam sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "Well, why wouldn't I think that, Dean? Dad loved you best; you were always better at what we do. He told you to take care of me because he didn't want to, and it's always been a chore to you, too. I can see it. You've practically told me yourself about a thousand times. And I've always been different! I've been infected with demon blood since I was six months old, and I've been called a freak, or, or, an abomination, ever since then-"

"Sam, I didn't mean-" Castiel cut him off, remembering the hunt for the Whore of Babylon.  _ Sam, of course, is an abomination.  _ His stomach dropped out at the memory.  _ He  _ had said that to Sam.  _ He  _ had caused this.

"Cas, stay out of this!" Dean nearly yelled. "Sammy? Sam, look at me." Sam obeyed. "Don't you dare think, for one second, that taking care of you was just a job for me. Yeah, Dad told me to do it, but I chose to follow that order, and I loved every fucking second of it. And when you were at Stanford? Dad and I would drive by and check on you whenever we were anywhere within five hours of Palo Alto. He was so proud of you, Sammy. You were all he ever talked about."

"Really?" Sam asked, genuinely surprised.

"Hell yeah," Dean replied. "And you are not a freak. You're different, sure, but only because you're a fucking genius. You are a hero, Sam, and you have saved the world so many times. Hell, you stopped the apocalypse! You are worth  _ everything  _ to me, man! I love you, little brother!" Dean looked into Sam's hazel eyes, and he finally,  _ finally  _ saw what he was looking for. Hope. A flicker of hope. Sammy believed him.

"D'you really mean that?" Sam asked, tears sliding down his face.

"Of course I do. C'mere, man," Dean replied, pulling his little brother into a hug. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Sam sighed, then said, "I was afraid you would yell. Or get angry. Tell me to suck it up."

A tear slid down Dean's face. "God, Sam, I would never say anything like that to you, ever. Not when you're hurting like this. You weren't being weak at all. Okay?"

Sam paused. "Okay."

"Good."

Sam whispered a muffled, "Dean? I love you." into his brother's shirt

Dean clapped his hand on Sam's back, sniffing. The brothers pulled back from the embrace.

Sam gave his brother a shaky smile. "Uh, I'm going to go take a shower. I'm kind of- um.." His voice trailed off.

Dean nodded, and Sam picked his shirts up and made his way to the bathroom.

As soon as the door shut behind his little brother, Dean buried his head in his hands. "God, Cas." He looked up to the ceiling and took a deep breath. From the bathroom, he heard the cheap shower run. "How could he... seventeen years, he was- what- thirteen? How could... How did I never know?"

"It isn't your fault, Dean. He was very good at hiding it," Castiel said, still standing awkwardly by the bed.

Dean nodded, dropping his head back to his hands, and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, Cas, it is. All those times, I said such bad things to him, and I didn't notice now much it  _ hurt  _ him." Dean thought back to all the things he had said to his little brother.  _ I don't believe in you. If I didn't know you, I would want to hunt you. _

"How did I not notice something was wrong? I'm right next to him all hours of the day. I mean, sometimes he seemed a little off, but I just chalked it up to Lucifer, or the trials, or... I should have paid more attention."

Cas sighed. "Dean-"

"How did you know?" Dean cut him off.

Cas shifted awkwardly. He didn't know exactly how to explain without hurting the older Winchester more. "I, um, I walked in on him..."

Dean inhaled and exhaled sharply, effectively stopping Castiel's voice. He paused, then said, "So, what did you and Sam do?"

Castiel squinted. "What do you mean?"

"Sammy threatened you with something. He said he would 'tell me what you did.' What did you guys do?" He looked up at Cas, whose eyes shifted away from Dean.

"Uh," Cas didn't know what to say. Dean looked up at him, eyes demanding an explanation. "I think you should ask Sam about that."

Dean was confused. What did they do? "Why can't you tell me? Was it bad?" What was going on here?

Castiel thought back to the kiss, to the taste of Sam's lips underneath his. Was it bad? He didn't think so. He never figured he would fall in love with a human, especially one who had been addicted to demon blood. But ever since he met Sam, he had been fascinated. Fascinated by his selflessness, by the pure brightness of his soul. It had been so beautiful, reaching into every dark corner, every dark recess of the angel's mind and instilling him with hope.

Then Sam had gone to Hell. Cas had tried to get him out from the cage as soon as he could, he had tried so hard to save him, to fix him, to do it all right, but as soon as he set the man back on Earth, he had known something was seriously wrong. The light inside Sam was completely gone. And when he figured out the man was soulless, he had barely held it together. The realization almost killed him. The most important part of Sam had been stuck in the cage with two incredibly angry angels, for 180 years. Castiel had never been tortured by either one of those brothers, but he guessed it was worse than anyone could imagine.

Once Death had retrieved the man's soul, Cas was proven right. He wasn't lying when he told Dean that Sam's soul had felt like it had been skinned alive. But he had grossly understated the damage. Touching Sam's soul... It  _ repelled  _ him. It was so broken, so utterly destroyed, it was a miracle Sam ever woke up at all, even with the wall in his mind.

Which Cas tore down. He had thought he was doing the right thing, but he could see now just how wrong that was.

Thankfully, Sam's soul had started to repair itself once it was back inside him, and although it never grew quite to the brightness it once had, it had recovered better than Castiel ever thought it would. Castiel guessed Sam would always be affected by Hell, and he could understand why the human never talked to anyone about it, but according to his wounds, Hell wasn't the only thing pulling him down.

"Cas. Cas. Castiel," Dean said, bringing the angel back to reality.

"I apologize, Dean, I was... thinking," Cas replied.

"'Okay, well, you didn't answer my question. Was it bad? Whatever you and Sam did?"

"No. It's just something that Sam should tell you, I think."

Dean sighed, sitting back down on the bed.

Sam walked out of the bathroom, T-shirt and a pair of his brother's sweats on, wet hair hanging in his eyes. He brushed it away, warily eyeing Dean, trying to get a read on his mood.

"Uh..." he started.

Dean sprang up, turning to face Sam. He smiled. Sam looked better after the shower. Not good, but at least he was recognizable as the once happy kid who saved the world. "Heya, Sammy, how're you feeling?" The older brother looked Sam in the eyes. It was almost disturbing how... normal... Sam looked. Dean's kid brother had gotten way too good at hiding his emotions. Dean's grin faltered at the thought.

"Uh, better," Sam replied. "Can I-"

Dean cut him off. "So, I want to ask you something."

Sam visibly deflated. "Dean, can it wait?" I'm really tired, and I... It's been a long day."

Dean pursed his lips. He didn't want to let the Sam-and-Cas subject drop, but he knew blood loss, and Sam needed food, and he needed sleep. "Yeah. Eat this first, though." He threw his brother a granola bar, making a mental note to take Sam out to eat first thing tomorrow.

Sam obeyed, slowly chewing and swallowing while Dean and Castiel watched his every move. He threw the wrapper into the trash, laid down, then promptly fell asleep.

Dean yawned, rubbing his eyes. He was tired. He had been driving all day, and now this had come to light. But he didn't want to leave Sam unattended. Not tonight.

"Cas, will you-"

"I'll watch over him."

Dean nodded, laid back on the bed, and was out in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked chapter 2! :)  
> (Note: Chapters 1 through 4 of this work are unrevised reposts of my old story, originally put on fanfiction.net under the same name. These chapters were written between 2014 and 2016.)


	3. Chapter 3

Blearily, Dean opened his eyes. Immediately, he looked to the bed next to him. Sam was sleeping soundly, breathing deeply, every exhale blowing his overlong hair away from his face.  Dean watched him for a while, eyes trailing over his arm, tracing the plague of scars that rested there.

Tearing his eyes away, he looked up at Cas, who was watching his brother almost studiously. Eventually, Cas turned his gaze to Dean. His feet shifted awkwardly. "Good morning."

"If you say so," Dean replied. "Sam okay?"

Cas gave a slight nod. "He slept soundly."

Dean returned the gesture, accompanied by a breath of relief. "Good." The angel said it as if Sam being okay was a finality. He hoped it would be, at least. He hoped Sam could live out the rest of his life with a smile on his face, but he knew that wasn't realistic. Seventeen years was a long period to move past so quickly.

The older Winchester sat up and stretched, letting out a loud sigh, then glanced to Sam again. No one should have to recover from their childhood.

He hated to wake his little brother, but he knew he needed to get some food into him, and soon, or Sammy would collapse again. "Hey, Sam. Dude. Rise and shine. Breakfast time."

Sam stirred a little bit, but continued to sleep. Dean got up and made his way to Sam's bed. He shook his brother lightly by the shoulder. "Sammy. Come on, kiddo. Rise and shine."

"D'n? What time is it?" Sam squinted up at him groggily.

"Uh, like ten. Time to get up. We're going to get some grub."

"Mmmf, just a few more minutes," Sam rolled back over.

"Nope. Come on, I know you're tired, but we gotta get some food into you. Come on. Get up," Dean coaxed. He wasn't sure what the best strategy was, talking to Sam. He didn't want the kid to feel like everyone was tiptoeing around him, but Dean felt... wrong treating everything like it had been.

Sam sighed, fingers flying to his wrist as if checking for something. A sleeve. Watching the small movement, Dean realized just how often Sam did that. Right before he got up, right before he went to bed. He had gone through so much effort to hide from his brother. Dean bit down on his lip.

When Sam didn't find what he was looking for, his eyes flew open, traveling up and down his arms briefly before locking, panicked, on Dean. Slowly, the events of last night came back to him.

He dropped his head back to his pillow, covering his face with one hand. "Shit," he said, and his voice was a small whisper of defeat.

Dean was unsure what to do. He patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go." He stood up from Sam's bed and threw another layer of clothes on.

Behind him, the younger Winchester sat up and stretched. He ran his hands through his hair and looked around for his plaid shirt.

He looked so pale. Dean was just lucky Cas had found him when he had. If not... Dean didn't even want to think about it. His brother would have gone on like this for who knows how long, and then who knew what could have happened?

Sam stood, a little shaky but steady enough, and threw on his shirt.

Like that, you wouldn't know anything was wrong. He just looked like Dean's kid brother with the crazy hair.

"Meet you in the car, Sammy," Dean said, tossing him the keys.

Sam nodded, unsmiling, and made his way to the Impala. Dean felt a slight pang at leaving him by himself. He knew Sam could handle being without him for a couple minutes, but Dean didn't want his brother to feel abandoned ever again, even if it meant gluing himself to his side.

Dean turned to Cas. "So, how're the angels?" It was a weak attempt at small talk, especially since he knew what the answer was going to be.

Surely enough, Cas's face fell a little. "Um, not good. We have no leader, no wings... No one really knows what to do."

Dean nodded. This whole goddamn situation was fucked up. "Hey, Cas? Thank you. For saving Sam."

Castiel shifted on his feet again, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. "You're welcome, Dean."

Dean turned to go, then turned back. "Uh, you wanna come with?" Dean asked, silently hoping that he could talk to his brother alone, but not wanting to leave the angel without an invitation, especially after all he'd done for them.

As if sensing Dean's thoughts, Cas smiled a mirthless smile and said, "No, thank you. I'll attempt to concoct a spell to track down the angel that possessed Sam, but I can't guarantee much success."

"Okay." Dean clapped his hand on Cas's shoulder briefly. "Just, uh, keep your ears on, man."

Castiel let out a short puff of air. It could have been a laugh, in better times. "Of course. I need to continue healing Sam, in any case. I'll be back before long."

Dean turned once more to leave, making his way to the door in tired strides, lingering exhaustion filling his bones with lead.

"Dean," Cas said. Dean stopped. "Take care of him."

The corners of his mouth turned up, and he stepped out the door.

* * *

"So, where do you wanna go?" Dean asked his brother. Sam shrugged noncommittally, unsure of how to proceed. They were both treading carefully. Neither of them knew what to say to the other. What was even acceptable to say, after what happened last night? Neither brother wanted to hurt their sibling.

Finally, Dean suggested, "Well, there's got to be a diner or something nearby." He turned the key and brought the Impala to life.

After a short, silent drive in the small town, Dean pulled the car into a run-down restaurant. "This look good?" Dean said, looking over at Sam and raising his eyebrows.

Sam smiled a little, shaking his head. "Yeah, Dean, it looks fine."

Dean grinned back. "Good, because I am ninety percent sure this is the only place in town where I can get a double bacon cheeseburger."

"Dude, you're gross," Sam replied easily, smiling automatically. Too quickly, however, his mouth fell back into a straight, thin line.

Dean noted this, heart sinking after it had just flown. "Yeah, well..." he said and got out of the car. He clenched his jaw. He knew that one conversation about food wouldn't fix things, and he knew that they had been bantering for years and Sam was feeling the exact same as he had been yesterday, but every smile that touched his brother's lips made Dean's heart leap a little.

"Need help, Sammy?" he said, not in the mocking way he would usually deliver the line after a minor bullet or claw wound, but as a serious inquiry. Sam's face was so pale he almost looked dead, and the lack of color in his cheeks made the bones in his face even more prominent than usual. Frankly, it was a miracle he was even alive, not to mention walking and talking.  _ Sammy the fucking superhero. _

"Dude, I haven't even opened the door yet. I'm good," Sam said. He struggled a little more than usual with the heavy door, but he hid it successfully until he almost fell when he stood up too fast.

"Whoa, easy," Dean caught him, hiding his fear with a smile. He held his brother carefully but firmly, looking him up and down.

"I'm fine, Dean. It was just..." he pursed his lips. "I'm fine. Let me walk."

Dean knew how much his brother hated feeling helpless, so he let him go. He didn't want to, but he knew the embarrassment would bother Sam too much. Sammy hated being looked at. He wasn't a center-of-attention kind of guy.

Nope, that was Dean. He loved it when the world seemed to revolve around him. And it wasn't a bad thing, usually. He just liked talking to people. Bobby always called him "his little extrovert" when Sam and Dean were kids. Then, he would send Dean off to play with other kids while Sammy clung to Bobby's leg like a monkey.

Still, Dean always had time for Sam. He asked him all the time if he wanted to play, even if he had to do it through the denim of Bobby's jeans.

Maybe if he had paid more attention…

No, he couldn't think like that.

Sam walked in steadily, pushing the door open with both hands. He pulled his sleeves down as far as they would go- another habit that Dean had never noticed before- and smiled widely at the waitress that greeted them.

"Two," Dean said a little too shortly, but he wasn't paying attention to the short blonde with the bright blue eyes whose face fell at his lack of courtesy. All his brainpower was going towards Sam.

"Please," Sammy tacked on for good measure, and they were both led to a comfortable and relatively secluded booth.

She handed them two mostly clean menus, said something about coming back for drink orders, then left abruptly.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked. "You look a little... vampire-y." He gestured to Sam's face and the paleness that resided there. He knew the answer, and he knew this wasn't just a minor cold on one of their road trips, but he had to ask.

"Fine, Dean," Sam sighed, drawing out the word  _ fine  _ in slight exasperation.

The older brother looked away to see if anyone was eavesdropping, then asked quietly, "So, what did you and Cas do that's so secret?" He watched as Sam's eyes dropped and his face fell briefly. Then, a small smile graced his lips. A tender, genuine one. One that Dean hadn't seen since- well- he couldn't remember.

"Nothing. It wasn't anything," Sam said.

"Come on, dude, spill. It was something. You practically dangled it over his head. What the hell is going on?"

Sam's eyes took on a sort of far off look, and his smile spread a little.

Whatever it was, it was making Sam happy, and that was all that mattered. But Dean had to admit he was itching to know what it was.

"Well-"

"What can I get for you guys?" the waitress- Stacey, Dean noticed- was back, a bright but obviously fake smile plastered on her face.

Dean clenched his jaw in annoyance. "Coffee, black, and a double bacon cheeseburger," he said shortly. He needed to talk to Sam right now. His brother was hurting, and Dean had to help him.

The waitress looked to Sam, who looked up at her kindly and said, "I'll just have water, please, and a-"

Dean interrupted, "No, he won't. He'll have a..." he glanced down at the menu. "Chocolate milkshake."

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed in protest.

"No, little brother, you have to get your blood sugar up." He raised his eyebrows and searched Sam's eyes.

Sammy clenched his jaw and nailed Dean with a look that shot daggers, but sat back, seeing the logic in the statement. "Fine, I'll have that, and a- um..." Sam knew he needed to eat, and he had to have everything he could get. "Uh, I'll just have the double bacon cheeseburger, too. Please." He flashed the waitress a quick smile.

Stacey glanced uncertainly between the brothers, then said, "Okay, folks, I'll be right back with that for you!"

Dean practically waved her away, but Sam replied, "Thank you so much, Stacey."

Her smile turned a little more genuine as she walked away.

Dean smirked. "Laying it on a little thick there, don't you think?" Sam was so kind. To everyone. Even when the brothers had been kids. His whole life, Sam had been the best of the two of them. The best of all the hunters Dean had met. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Well, you weren't exactly being a saint," Sam said, poking fun at his brother, but most likely teaching him a lesson, too. It was funny, almost. Ever since they started riding together, Sam seemed to gift Dean with more than Dean gave his brother. That kid was smart.

Dean smiled a little, then made a  _ come on _ motion with his hand. "Sammy. Spill."

The younger Winchester shook his head, but the slight grin had returned. He poked his tongue into the side of his mouth and sat back to the cushion of the booth once more.

"Fine. Uh..." Sam's eyebrows shot up briefly. His eyes flicked to the right. He was trying to find out where to start.

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth. For some reason, the anticipation was  _ killing  _ him. Maybe it was because Cas was a wave of celestial intent or whatever, and if Sam felt like he could fucking  _ blackmail  _ the angel, then it must have been a pretty goddamn significant event. Maybe it was because he liked seeing Sam happy. Maybe it was because he didn't want to talk about Sam's... well... depression.

Almost without noticing, Dean cleared his throat loudly. It was difficult to admit to himself, even now, after all they had been through, But the fact that Sam, his kid brother, his charge, his best friend, the most important person in his world, had felt so unwanted, so unloved, so  _ alone  _ that he felt he needed to  _ hurt  _ himself ever since he was a teenager... well, it was Earth-shattering.

"Uh, Cas and I.. Well, basically, after you left, I thought- um..." Sam cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows.

_ Thought what?  _ Dean mentally urged Sam on.  _ After I left... _ Did he think he had been, what, abandoned? He started, "Sam-"

"Anyway," Sam cut him off. He needed to get through this story, whatever it was. "I was in the bathroom, and um... Cas walked in  on me, well-" Sam made a slight  _ cutting  _ motion with his finger. Dean took a deep breath, pushing the palms of his hands against the edge of the table.

Sammy continued, "Well, at first I hid it, but after I passed out, he-"

"Wait, you passed out?"

"Dean!" Sam said sternly. Dean gave him a look that conveyed,  _ Right, go on. _  Sam looked at him accusingly and continued.

"After I  _ passed out, _ Cas healed me, and when I woke up, well, I told him everything. And uh, he basically... We talked and then he..." Sam paused. "Well, he kissed me."

At first, it didn't even register. "Wh- wh-"

"And I kissed back," Sam tried to be matter-of-fact, nonchalant.

"What? Dean finally got the word out.

Sam, being the smart kid he always was, gave Dean time to process.

"Y-you, um, what?"

Sam flashed a quick smile. He laughed a little, even. "Yeah." He began to suck down the milkshake thaat had arrived completely unnoticed by the elder Winchester.

"Should have ordered something stronger than coffee," Dean muttered to himself. Sam's face fell a little.

"So, um, are you, well..." Dean began, unsure of how to convey his thoughts.

"What, gay?" The side of Sam's mouth pushed into a smile. "No, of course not. I was all ready to marry Jess nine years ago."

"Wait, you were going to marry her?" Dean was shocked. Almost a decade he had been riding with his brother, and Sam had never once told him that.

Aiming for casual, Sam replied, "Yeah, I had a ring picked out and everything."

"Jesus Christ, Sammy," Dean shook his head a little and sat back. This conversation was overwhelming. These last two days had been nearly too much for him to handle.

Sam looked down at his hands, and Dean's heart pulled a little.

"So..." Dean didn't know the exact right way to ask. "What are you?"

"What?"

"Like... what... orientation, or whatever?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know, Dean. I haven't really figured it out yet."

Dean didn't know what to say. "Okay," he replied slowly.

The plates of food were set in front of them, and Sam immediately dove into his burger. Dean's plate, however, was left untouched.

"Oh my god," Sam managed around his full mouth. The dish was amazing, and Dean was letting his get cold.

Sam noticed this and flashed his eyes from Dean to the plate in front of him. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. "Dean..." He pushed his hair back with his hand. "Dude, it's not like I'm some new person."

Dean continued staring at his brother blankly, confusion etched in his features. Eventually, he said, "Uh, yeah Sammy, I know. It's just... a lot to take in." He did a small smirk at the end of the sentence, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes didn't change.

Sam looked down at his lap once more, hair falling in his eyes. He was obviously hoping Dean would have taken this better. The younger brother cleared his throat.  _ Once a freak, always a freak. _

"So, kissing an angel, that's got to be like, number one on Heaven's naughty list, right? I mean, God's not that big on the whole... gay thing," Dean joked.

Sam blinked quickly and tried to take another bite of his burger. Suddenly, it didn't taste like much anymore. "It's not as simple as straight and gay," he said quietly, weakly. He continued to look down as he tried to swallow his food around the lump in his throat. He was surprised to feel tears welling up in his eyes. Sam had  _ needed  _ Dean to support him. Suddenly, Sam remembered why he didn't want to say anything to his brother in the first pace. He wished he would have left it alone.

Dean, eyeing Sam's inner turmoil, immediately backtracked. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, dude, I didn't mean it like that. Sam? Look at me."

Obediently, Sam looked up.

"Sammy, sorry, I'm being serious. Not about Heaven's... whatever. Look, man. It's just a lot of information all at once. I mean, it's not every day you learn your kid brother likes to kiss chicks  _ and  _ dudes, you know? Or whatever the hell Cas is."

Sam nodded. It made sense. Sam didn't know until recently, either, and he was still processing. At first, he had been reeling.  He took another bite of his burger and was pleased that the taste had returned.

"Do you, um, do you want to... well...?" Dean asked after taking a few bites of his food. He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Dude," Sam scolded, hiding his reddening cheeks by wiping his clean face.

"Right, sorry," Dean corrected himself quickly. "Do you, uh," he cleared his throat. "Do you like, love him?"

Sam stopped chewing and looked at his brother in shock. He looked away almost instantaneously and thought on the subject.

_ Did  _ he love Castiel? He wasn't sure. When he first saw him, he practically worshipped him, but that wasn't love. They had become good friends over the years, and honestly, Sam did  _ like  _ him a little. But then, he had betrayed the Winchesters, and that took a long time to get over.

However, Sam could still feel pain in his chest when he remembered seeing Castiel, once so strong, be possessed and walk into that water. He still had nightmares about it sometimes. He remembered how much agony it caused him to see Cas empty and insane. It had hurt more than he ever could have imagined it would.  And that pain had continued into the next year, when the insanity was gone, but the emptiness remained as he was forced to do what he was told.

Then, Sam remembered last night, although it seemed like so much more long ago. The words the angel had said made the younger brother do something no one else had ever made him do. For the first time in seventeen years, maybe longer, Sam had truly, fully believed in himself.

But was Sam  _ in  _ love with the angel, or did he just love him?

Finally, he replied, "I don't know."

Slowly, Dean nodded.

Sam found himself wondering how Castiel felt about him. Did he know what he was doing when he brought his lips to the Winchester's? Or was it just another human action that he didn't know when to use?

Dean looked at Sam. Really looked. He noticed for the first time how carefully he set himself, how consciously he paid attention to the length of his sleeves. He was always trying to look strong for his brother, keeping his face set and his body tall, but Dean saw the rippling undercurrent whenever Sammy tightened his jaw or tugged on his shirt.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked. He eyed the edge of one of his brother's cuts, barely visible under the shadow his shirt cast on his skin.

Sam looked up at him in surprise. Automatically, he nodded.

Dean urged, "No, really. Are you okay?"

Sam dropped his head slightly, really considering the question. For  _ seventeen years  _ he hadn't been okay. Sam wasn't entirely sure he even knew what "okay" meant. But he was better now than he had been for a long time.

"No, Dean, I'm not," Sam replied honestly. He looked up at his brother. Dean bit his lip and looked away, fingers curling minimally. He cleared his throat.  "But I think I will be," Sam finished, and honestly, he almost believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading chapter 3! Next chapter, Sam and Cas talk through what happened and where they should go from here.  
> (Note: Chapters 1 through 4 of this work are unrevised reposts of my old story, originally put on fanfiction.net under the same name. These chapters were written between 2014 and 2016.)


	4. Chapter 4

The brothers finished their meal in near silence, Dean taking time to look at Sammy and to simply think. It was difficult, knowing Sam had come so close to death just yesterday, and at his own hand, too. He wanted to take away all that pain, but he couldn’t. Not this time. This time he had been a contributing factor to Sam’s self-inflicted wounds. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of them had been made after something  _ he’d _ done or said. Dean wanted to fix all those atrocities he’d delivered towards the person he loved most, although he knew it was too late, at least on some level. The scars proved that point.

“Dean, hey,” Sam said, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Dean rose out of the depths of his thoughts and stood slowly. He followed Sam to the car, carefully watching his back. The older brother had eaten his entire burger, but he still felt completely empty inside. He always been a worrier, especially when it came to Sam, but he’d never had to panic this much, excluding when Sam was in Hell. Dean didn’t even know what to say. He hated feeling like this, like he had to tiptoe around his brother. But what was he supposed to do? No one had ever given him a pamphlet that said  _ “Oh yeah, by the way, this is what you do if your brother starts cutting himself. And is gay, or… not straight, at least.”  _ He couldn’t even imagine what this was like for Sammy.

Dean cleared his throat and asked what seemed to be his fallback question over the last twenty-four hours: “So, how are you?” He knew he’d just asked, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was off.

Sam shot him an unreadable look. “Better,” he said.

Dean opened the door for Sam, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wanted to ask something else, but he wasn’t sure he needed to hear the answer. The brothers got into the antique car, and the silence was awkward to say the least. All that could be heard was the rumble of the engine as Dean backed out of the parking lot and began driving. Neither of the brothers wanted to breathe too loud, move too much. It was unbearable. Finally, Dean spoke. “Really, Sam?”

“What?”

“Are you really? Doing better?”

Sam clenched his jaw, slightly confused, and said, “Yeah, I told you I was, Dean.”

“Well, I don’t believe you,” Dean said and looked Sam up and down. It was true, he did look better, but, as he was just now learning, when it came to his brother, looks could be deceiving.

Sam just stared at him. “Why would I lie-”

Now that his brain was going, Dean couldn’t make his mouth stop. He had to say what he was thinking before he lost the courage (or maybe the stupidity).  Pulling off to the side of the road, he cut off his brother, saying loudly, “Because apparently, you’ve been lying to me for twenty years!”

Sam automatically reached to scratch his forearms, but seeing his brother’s face, he crossed his arms instead.

Dean blinked. Another gesture he’d missed over all this time.

Sam opened his mouth to correct him on how long it'd been, but thought better of it.

Dean hesitated, but continued, “Look, Sam, I’m not very good at this, and I… I know there’ve been times when I haven’t been… a very good brother to you-”

“Dean,” Sam started, but Dean shook his head to stop him from talking.

“No, look, I know I haven’t. But… look, man, I… look, I… I still love you, and I just, I don’t know, I want the best for you. And I need you to tell me this stuff. Alright? I’m not going to judge you or anything. Look, I don’t care if you want to, ah, hook up with Cas or whatever.” He got a little more confident when Sam smirked. “You’re still my brother, and I want to be here for you, but I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me, so… please just be honest, okay? I’m here, man. I’m… I’m here.” He clenched his jaw, waiting anxiously for Sam to respond.

Sam was studying his feet intensely. After what seemed like a century to Dean, Sam looked up at him. To Dean’s relief, his kid brother’s face pulled into a smile, and it didn’t seem forced. It was relaxed. Dean hadn’t seen that smile in years. Finally, for once in his life, he’d done the right thing.

Sam said, “God, Dean. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. You have no freaking idea.” Overwhelmed, Sam found himself wiping tears out of his eyes.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do. Awkwardly, he patted Sam on the shoulder, saying, “Let it out, man.”

Sam laughed at that. It was painfully clear that Dean was not used to doing his, and it was a little uncomfortable. But, at the same time, Sam felt incredibly relieved. It really didn’t matter how backwards this situation felt, how strange it all was. All that mattered was that Dean was trying. And boy, was he.

Sam sniffed a little and blinked.

Dean warily broke the silence. “So… How  _ are _ you doing, Sammy? Really?”

Sam cleared his throat and answered, “I mean, physically, I really am feeling much better, Dean. Mentally…” He sighed. “I’ve been worse.”

At Dean’s slightly wounded look, Sam elaborated, “Look, I… I am better than yesterday. A lot better. But, I don’t know, you have to realize that I really wasn’t in a good place last night, and it takes a while to get over something like that. I mean… seventeen years don’t disappear in a day.”

Dean stared straight ahead, briefly remembering his stint in Hell. “I know, man,” he finally said.

The two brothers looked directly forward. It had been a rough day for both of them, but Dean felt like they’d reached some sort of understanding, like they'd gotten back to some degree of normalcy. And that was incredibly relieving. After seventeen years of secret-keeping and lies, the air was finally clear.

Dean sighed loudly and started the Impala, pulling it back into the road. “So, little brother, what do you want to do today? Hustle some pool? Find a job? Read a book or something? Up to you, kiddo.”

Sam looked at Dean sheepishly. “I… kind of want to… talk to Cas. Figure out what the hell is going on… with that.”

Dean paused for a second, then nodded. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” The pair sat in a rare comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.

* * *

When they got back to the room, it was eerily empty, and Sam felt a little trapped. He could see the signs of last night’s events. His covers looked barely touched -- he had basically passed out last night. Dean’s were the opposite -- messy, unorganized. Sam sighed. It meant that Dean was worried. At least he  _ had _ slept. That was a miracle in itself.

Sam understood how freaked Dean was when his call for Cas lacked the sarcasm he usually used. “Castiel, come on down. It’s time to talk.”

Cas appeared in less than a second and said, “Yes, Dean?” He gave Sam a long, hard look. Satisfied that he was doing better, he turned his eyes back to the older brother.

“Sammy wants to talk to you,” Dean said. “I’m going to head out, have a couple of drinks or something. You kids have fun.” He made to leave, but turned around at the last minute. “But not too much fun. No… funny business.”

Sam shot him a venomous look, but his lips were pulling up into an involuntary smile. Dean’s eyebrows unfurrowed and he let out a chuckle, closing the door loudly behind him.

Sam rolled his eyes at his absent brother, then turned to Cas, who was looking at him intently. They just stared at each other for a second, and the silence was nothing if not tense.

“You wanted to talk,” Castiel finally commented in that gruff, near-monotone way he said everything. Sam was good at deciphering his inflection, though -- it was something he was proud of -- and he could hear the slight touches of anxiety and apprehension in the way Cas formed his words.

“Yes, I, um… I wanted to talk about… what happened last night, and what… what happens now,” Sam said, and he made to sit down on the edge of his bed.

Castiel nodded, simply noting, “That makes sense.” No inflection there.

Sam cleared his throat, feeling horribly awkward and…  _ sixteen.  _ He gestured to Dean’s bed. “You can sit if you want.”

Castiel looked at him for a second and considered reminding him that angels were just as comfortable standing as they were sitting, but something in Sam’s eyes, some sort of anxiety, made him reconsider. Mechanically, he sat down on Dean’s bed and faced Sam. He didn’t know what to say. Sam was always better at communicating than he was. He figured that the best course of action would be to wait for Sam to start.

Sam worked his hands in his lap, barely able to breathe with how tense he was. It didn’t help that Castiel was just staring at him. He cleared his throat again and noticed, as if for the first time, how blue the angel’s eyes were. And how deep. Although Cas wasn’t blessed with social grace, Sam felt he could see everything Castiel wanted to say in those eyes.

“So,” Sam started, realizing that he was getting distracted. “I, uh, I don’t know how angel romances work, but I just…” Sam paused when Castiel squinted a little. He ran his hand through his hair. “I just wanted to talk… and see what exactly that kiss meant… to you, and what we should do,” Sam said, ending the phrase as if it was a question. He was usually the communicator of the group, but he could barely get through a single sentence now without fucking it up royally. And his heart still beat faster whenever he so much as thought the word ‘kiss’ around Castiel. This conversation was not going as smoothly as planned.

And Cas was still silent. Sam couldn’t even hear him breathe. Did angels need to breathe? Sam shook his head slightly. He was seriously in over his head here.

The silence was palpable, and Sam felt like he was drowning in what he wanted to say. He took in a breath, averting his eyes from Castiel’s, and began to speak, “So, I… I don’t know. Look, I don’t know how your relationships work, but, I mean, down here, kissing someone can be a… pretty serious thing, and I… I guess I wanted to know where you stood on that.” Sam picked at his sleeve, then looked back up at Castiel. To his relief, the angel’s expression had softened a little.

Cas looked down to where Sam was toying with his shirt. He wanted to reach out, grip the man’s hand, absorb that nervous energy. But there were so many layers here. So many things to consider. “Sam,” Castiel began evenly. “I must be honest. Angels don’t have very many… romantic interactions.” When Sam looked slightly crestfallen, Cas hastened to continue, “But on those rare occasions when it does happen, these relationships bear a striking similarity to those of humans. We have many of the same… customs. So, if you are wondering if I… knew the intentions of my actions, the answer is yes.”

Sam smiled, just barely, but enough for the angel to notice and relax a little more.

Sam let out a breath, and gave a nervous laugh when he realized how audible that exhale was. “Okay,” he continued on, rubbing his hands on his thighs. He looked at Castiel for a second, unsure of how to proceed. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and, I don’t know, Cas, I…” Sam smiled briefly. “I think I like you.” The expression was so high school -- no, so  _ middle school _ \-- but Sam didn’t know how else to put his feelings into words.

Cas furrowed his eyebrows but stopped when he realized the implications of Sam’s statement. He smiled a small, tight-lipped smile, but the relief was so evident in his eyes that Sam knew he and Cas were okay. Better than okay.

Sam smiled brilliantly, then bit his lip to keep his joy in check. “So, what now?” he said quietly, but urgently. The worst of this conversation was over. Now came the confusing part.

Castiel, apparently, felt differently. He squinted and replied simply, “The next step is courting in the human custom, is it not?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and he stifled a cough. “Uh… yeah, Castiel, usually. Is… is that what you want? What do angels do?”

“Angels follow the same timeline as humans in this scenario. It can be slightly different, since much of our courting takes place in Heaven, when we-” Cas cut himself short, continuing softly, “- _ took _ place in Heaven…” Cas’s voice faded out, and his eyes squinted in bewildered sadness.

Sam made to reach out for him, but, being unsure of what Castiel was comfortable with, reached for his sleeve instead. He rubbed it between his fingers. “I’m sorry, Castiel,” he near whispered. “About Heaven and the angels.”

Castiel made a gesture that could have been a shrug. “It is unfortunate, but we’ve been abandoned for a long time. And I’ve been an outcast for years.”

Sam opened his mouth to apologize for that as well, but Cas stopped him, saying, “It’s not your fault, Sam. I’m glad I made the decision I did.”

Sam nodded, not fully convinced, but he let the subject go. “So, uh, Cas. Is this… you and me… do you want that?”

Cas noted how Sam got serious again, jaw clenched. He could see the muscles in his face tighten, and his bright green eyes were sparkling with worry. His reply took no thought at all. “Yes, Sam. This is something I want.”

Sam looked down at his lap, letting out a breath. When he looked back up at the angel, his face was exponentially calmer. “Me too,” he said simply. He smiled a little, a gesture that Castiel returned. What were they now? Dating? Did Sam Winchester have a boyfriend? Or a whatever-the-hell-Cas-was-friend?

Castiel noticed the range of emotions flitting across Sam’s face. He was relieved to see that most of them were good, but he couldn’t help but be concerned about the man. He had been through a lot. Too much. Some of it had been Cas’s fault, and he’d never forgive himself for that. “Sam,” Cas began. Sam had to know that Cas was there for him, that he wouldn’t betray him again. “I’m here to support you. I know it hasn’t been an easy life for you, and much of that is my doing, but I… Know that I am here.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. “Castiel, stop. Quit kicking yourself for all that stuff from a couple of years ago. Trust me, I’ve forgiven you, or else this-” Sam gestured between them, “-wouldn’t be happening.” Sam searched Cas’s face, watching as the angel digested his statement. “And thank you. It means a lot. And believe me, Castiel, I’m here for you too.”

Cas found himself looking at the younger Winchester and wondering how he, a traitor, an outcast, deserved something so wonderful as knowing the bright, shining soul of Sam. As  _ loving _ the bright, shining soul of Sam. It was as beautiful as could be, before and after Hell. Castiel looked at the man and said, “Is now an appropriate time to kiss you?”

Sam smiled the smile that Castiel cherished, the one that was a genuine, laughing smile that lit up the world. “Yeah, Cas, I’d say it is.”

When the angel kissed Sam this time, he could still feel that smile on his lips, and he could taste the happiness on his tongue. Kissing Sam was a breath of fresh air, a sigh of relief. Kissing Sam was like going home.

They separated and looked into each other’s eyes. They stayed in a comfortable silence for a couple of seconds until Sam said softly, “So, what do we call ourselves, Castiel?”

Cas tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Are we… a couple? Are you… my boyfriend?” Sam said plainly, though his mind still caught on the word ‘boyfriend.’ He wasn’t used to thinking about it in relation to him.

“Although I inhabit the body of a man, I am genderless. However, whatever term you choose should suffice.”

Sam nodded, still unsure what felt comfortable. “Listen, Cas, this is still new territory, being with someone who’s not a woman. And someone who’s… an angel.” He almost said ‘not human,’ but the words stuck in his throat. With everything going on,  _ that _ was too much to even think right now, not to mention talk about out loud.

“I have never… been with... someone like you either,” Castiel replied, adopting Sam’s terminology. “It is definitely a new experience for both of us.”

“Exactly. So, could we… take it slow? Just, feel around the edges of all of this?” Sam said awkwardly. He hoped Castiel would understand the nuance of his words. It could often go either way.

To Sam’s relief, Cas nodded. “Yes, that would be best. This is unexplored. I feel that that would be the most comfortable option.”

Sam nodded, glad that they were finding common ground. “Exactly. No pressure, but we get what we want.”

Castiel’s eyes sparkled, which was often the closest to a smile that he got.

This time, Sam initiated the kiss, leaning off the bed a little to reach Castiel. He placed his hand on the back of Cas’s neck, feeling the place where his hair met his skin under his fingers. It was such a different experience, kissing Castiel _. _ Sam knew that Cas had seen the worst parts of him, the parts others shied away from. Sam had been an abomination when they’d met, for God’s sake. Cas had looked into his soul -- literally -- and he had still gravitated closer. He’d helped in the most important of ways. Sam hadn’t had that in a relationship since Jessica.

But feeling Cas’s mouth under his was also so damn new. There was a strange familiarity to him, but such a profound difference that it made Sam’s head spin. Kissing Castiel was like accepting a future that he never thought he could’ve had. It was like seeing his arms smooth and unmarred again; it was like being the man hunting had never allowed him to be. In charge of his life, a well-educated person who could open himself to love without worrying too much about disaster.

Sam ended the kiss when he heard the click of the door being unlocked. Dean hadn’t stayed away long. Honestly, Sam hadn’t expected him to.

Dean stepped into the doorway and asked, “Hey, how’s it going?” It was an innocent question. Sam knew it wasn’t the one he wanted to ask, but it was close enough.

Sammy stood and turned to face his older brother, noting that Cas did the same. He answered, “Hey, Dean.” Sam glanced at the angel, who gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. “So… We decided that we’d give it a shot. Y’know, figure things out, take it slow…” His voice trailed off as he anxiously awaited Dean’s reply.

Dean still didn’t know exactly what to think or how to feel about all the new developments that had happened in just these last two days, but he knew that his main concern was his brother’s health and happiness, as it always had been. And looking at the two of them, Dean felt like he saw something new. Cas had done some shitty things in the past, but then again, so had Sam, and so had he. He wasn’t sure Sam had ever forgiven Castiel (or if Dean had) for the crap with Hell and the wall, but upon viewing the pair, he could see that Sammy and the angel were right as rain. They both looked at ease, a little more relaxed than they usually were, which was definitely saying something. Sam and Cas were two of the most self-sacrificing bastards he’d ever seen; they took the world on their backs. It was a welcome change to see them with a little less tension in their shoulders.

Dean nodded and finally replied, “Cool. Sounds like a damn good plan to me.”

Sam fidgeted with his sleeve, much to Dean’s chagrin. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Really? Y-you’re okay with this?”

The older brother shrugged. “Look, Sam, it’s new to me, too, but hell yeah. If it makes you happy, I’m all for it. Besides, look at the two of you! You look better than I’ve seen you in months. How could I argue?” He watched as Sam’s expression brightened a little, and Cas shuffled freely on his feet.

Sam nodded and looked back at Castiel in an expression that could only be described as  _ soft _ . It was certainly a good thing to see.

Dean grinned and threw himself onto his bed. “I don’t need to start getting two motel rooms now, do I?” he quipped.

Dean’s smile grew wider when he saw Cas’s confusion and Sam going bright red. “Dude, come on. No. That’s… dude,” Sam stuttered, and Dean laughed out loud.

Cas simply said, “I don’t understand.”

Sam went redder and replied, “You don’t want to. He’s being stupid.” The little brother grabbed a pillow and threw it at Dean, sitting down easily on his bed. He smiled in spite of trying his hardest not to, and Dean laughed harder.

When he saw Sam go for his sleeve out of habit, Dean’s smile hardened slightly. They still had a long way to go, there was no doubt about that. But at least Sammy was going somewhere. And at least that somewhere was finally in the right direction. It was a colossal relief, and the older brother knew that he and Cas were both going to be there for every step of the journey to Sam’s recovery, no matter how long it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually still pretty proud of parts of this chapter. I hope you liked it as well!
> 
> (Note: Chapters 1 through 4 of this work are unrevised reposts of my old story, originally put on fanfiction.net under the same name. These chapters were written between 2014 and 2016.)
> 
> So, I've officially finished moving all of my content over from fanfiction.net, which means that the next chapter (the last chapter) will be new! Hopefully, it'll be written better too. I know the basic direction I want to take, but I don't have the details worked out yet. So, if you have anything you want to see, please let me know in the comments, and if it works with the flow of things, I might put it in!
> 
> I can't give you a timeline for when the last chapter will be up, unfortunately. Every time I give myself a schedule, I stray from it. I'm hoping I'll be able to add it soon, though. This story has been a long journey for me (4 years!); I'll try not to make it much longer. Rereading this in its entirety for my move to ao3 has brought up some ideas, so I'm feeling cautiously optimistic.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you're enjoying this so far, and thank you for reading! :)


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